


Red is still red, even after five centuries

by TuskFM



Series: Nile & Quynh's Ludicrous Adventures [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Domestic, F/F, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Gen, Good Quynh | Noriko, Nail Polish, Quynh | Noriko-centric, background andromaquynh but their love isn't disregarded this just focus on Quynh and Nile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27940292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuskFM/pseuds/TuskFM
Summary: “What is this,” Quỳnh says when she finds Nile sitting at the coffee table, an array of small bottles lined in front of her and painting her nails a vibrant blue. She’s holding a small brush and uses the paint in the bottle to cover each of her nails. Her brows are furrowed in concentration and the tip of her tongue is stuck between her teeth."What are you doing.” She asks and steps inside the room."Hi Quỳnh!” Nile turns her head to smile at her. “I’m painting my nail.”“With oil?” The last she remembers of art is Yusuf telling her about this new oil paint that never dries,allowing for such precise blending of the paints Quỳnh, you don’t understand how amazing it is!She can still hear his voice creeping higher in tones with excitement.“No, nail polish.”~Quỳnh and Nile share a lovely morning together painting their nails.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Nile Freeman & Quynh | Noriko
Series: Nile & Quynh's Ludicrous Adventures [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074017
Comments: 21
Kudos: 105





	Red is still red, even after five centuries

**Author's Note:**

> Got the idea this morning while painting my own nails and thought this would make for a sweet fic. This is Quỳnh bonding with Nile over fashion and makeup and having fun.

There are many things Quỳnh loathes about the twenty-first century, certainly not as many things she appreciates and values, but her heart always bore her feelings with intensity, good and bad. She hates the way anything tastes, always off unless it’s Nicolò’s hands who prepared it. She hates the crazy fast train of life everyone follows. She hates how bad this century smells. Pungent, acrid smells that burn her nose and throat. Andromache says she’ll get used to it, but she’s not sure she wants to.

Which is why an incredibly sour mood overtakes her when the strong smell of chemicals greets her when she walks back into the safe house from her morning routine of stretches in the garden.

“What is this.” She mutters under her breath, determined to find the cause of the rancid odor and get rid of it immediately. She stops when she finds Nile sitting at the coffee table, an array of small bottles lined in front of her and painting her nails a vibrant blue. She’s holding a small brush and uses the paint in the small bottle to cover each of her nails. Her brows are furrowed in concentration and the tip of her tongue is stuck between her teeth. Is she holding her breath with how careful she’s being?

“What are you doing.” She asks and steps inside the room. Nile startles then, and Quỳnh sometimes forgets to make noise around her. She’s not yet used to how silent she is. It still flatters her ego to know she hasn’t lost her grace and skills.

“Oh god, please don’t sneak up on me.” She laughs and lays a hand over her chest. “Hi Quỳnh! I’m painting my nail.”

“With oil?” The last she remembers of art is Yusuf telling her about this new oil paint that never dries, _allowing for such precise blending of the paints Quỳnh, you don’t understand how amazing it is!_ She can still hear his voice creeping higher in tones with excitement.

“No, nail polish. That was invented in the fifties? I think?” Nile looks up to the ceiling as she always does when she’s trying to remember the creation of whatever object they’re talking about to explain it to Quỳnh. “I don’t know much about fashion history, sorry. I’ll look it up later.” Quỳnh makes her way to the coffee table and sits next to her, knees touching. She missed the contact of skin so much; she can’t get enough of it now.

“It is a fashion thing then?” She knows a lot already, she spends a lot of time reading, watching movies and documentaries but there are still so many things out of her understanding.

“Yes. Just like makeup, to make yourself more beautiful.” Nile shows her her right hand, all five nails covered by a smooth, shiny layer of indigo blue. It’s stunning, the light catches on the color and waves of deeper blue dances in it.

“It’s beautiful.” She says and takes her hand to get a closer look. There’s some paint over the skin, but Nile has been incredibly precise in her application. She used to be at the top of fashion back then. She’d be the one to initiate trends and pick them up first, always quicker and with more enthusiasm than her dear Andromache who would have been fine never changing the shape of her robes. Quỳnh loved it, finding new pigments to apply on her lips and new ways to style her hair and new clothes to wear. She always knew how to tell good fabric from a fraud passing garment.

“Thanks!” Nile smiles and puts the small brush back in the bottle. “I don’t wear nail polish often because it chips very fast when you use your hand a lot. But I like the extra treat sometimes. It’s nice to feel beautiful.”

“You are always gorgeous Nile; those artifacts only embellish the beauty nature gifted you.” And Nile is blushing, her cheeks turning darker. Quỳnh smiles and pushes her knee with her own. How she missed this, the easy bonds of family.

“Thank you Quỳnh. I don’t have my words with this language yet, but you are beautiful too.” They’re using Italian around the house, sometimes Spanish for Nile to not lose it but Quỳnh insisted. No English unless absolutely necessary. She heard enough of it for another millennium. Nile has learned it incredibly quickly too, even quicker than she and Andromache did when they settled in Europe back in the fifteenth century and decided to use the new Italian language. She has a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue, always know how to use it.

“I used to wear makeup.” She says and takes the blue bottle of paint Nile had been using. “I loved it, playing with clothes and hairstyles.” She tries, but it’s hard to grasp the standards of beauty of a society when you haven’t lived in one in centuries. There’s a difference between following the evolution of trends as you travel and being trusted in an entirely different world you wouldn’t even imagine could exist in your wildest dreams.

“You want me to paint your nails?” Nile offers, and Quỳnh turns her head to look at her.

“Is it a thing everyone does here?” She asks, and Nile shrugs.

“I mean.” And there’s a grimace on her face. “So, technically, it’s only a women’s thing. And people say older women should only wear dark colors, and even if you’re young it doesn’t look serious to wear bright colors. But I think it’s bullshit. Everyone can do whatever they want.” 

“Yeah?” Quỳnh loves talking with Nile about those kinds of things because she always gives the society’s rules in a rather neutral way but also gives her own input, and Quỳnh can choose which one she wants to follow.

“Absolutely! I mean, who cares if a guy wants to feel pretty too and wear pink nail polish or lipstick? It’s frown upon for men to wear makeup, mocked even but that’s stupid. And I hate that it is like that. So yeah, people won’t look at you weird if you wear nail polish because you’re a woman, but they will if Joe or Nicky does. And they’ll also give you some look if you wear bright pink or yellow or something like that because you’re old.” Quỳnh snickers and Nile rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Shut up, I know you’re old.” And this time it’s Nile who elbows her in the ribs. “But seriously, you look well over thirty, and adult women are not supposed to have fun apparently in this society.” And Nile rolls her eyes again but this time there’s exasperation in the motion.

“Thank you.” Quỳnh says and looks at the bottle again. It’s been almost a year since she got out of her coffin. It’s time she starts looking after herself, like she did before. And not just the bare minimum. She wants to be at the forefront of innovation and trends, like she was so long ago. “I would like you to paint my nails.” She says, and Nile beams at her.

“Awesome! I don’t have many colors on me but here.” She points at the dozens of bottles lined up on the table. “Chose the one you want and I’ll show you how to apply the nail polish, okay?” There are a variety of colors, from pinks to blues and greens, even some bright oranges and dark browns. But Quỳnh can’t help but smile when her eyes inevitably come back to the red bottle. She always liked this color more than the others, and she’s glad that hasn’t changed.

“This one.” She bends over the table to get the deep red and hand to Nile.

“Good choice.” She nods and shifts on her hips, turning toward her. “It’ll look good with your skin tone. Okay, I want you to lay your hand flat on the table, and don’t move or it’ll smudge the nail polish everywhere and it’ll look awful.”

They sit on the same side of the table, facing each other and Quỳnh’s left hand pointed toward her. It’s silent in the house, save from the radio softly playing in the background and the birds singing outside. It’s a good day.

“Okay, so first, you need to know that nail polish dries pretty fast, so you have to be sure and go quick. The way I do it, I put paint on only one side of the brush.” And she shows Quỳnh how she wipes both sides of the little brush on the neck of the bottle before picking up a dollop of paint on only one side. “Then you press the brush on your nail, near the skin part but, and it’s important, not touching the skin. You gotta leave a small line of nail naked, otherwise it doesn’t stick well.” Quỳnh watches as Nile puts the brush on her nail and with small movement gets really close to her cuticle before pulling the brush toward her and leaving a smear of red over the nail. It’s still liquid, shining under the light. “And then you do that again on either side of the first brushstroke, still careful of not touching the skin,” Nile repeats the motion, getting really close to the skin but not touching, dragging the brush and paint over the nail in one smooth swipe. “And you finish by putting nail polish on the end of the nail.” With one last stroke she lines the edge of her nail with paint. “It seals the nail polish and helps to keep it on a bit longer.”

Quỳnh takes her hand off the table to get a closer look. There’s a small smudge of red on the left of her nail, but apart from that Nile has done an impeccable job. It’s a strange sensation, not too different from when mud or paint or various varnish would dry on her hands. She hopes that feeling doesn’t last too long or else it’ll get really distracting for her.

“You are talented Nile.” She comments, fascinated at the way the light is catching on the smooth surface of the polish. She moves her fingers from left to right, right to left, crook her finger to watch the light moves across the surface.

“Thanks! I used to do my mom’s. And my friend’s nails when I was a teen. I got pretty good at it.” Nile is smiling proudly. “And using paint often also helps. You like the colors?”

“I do.” Quỳnh nods and puts her hand back on the table. “It’s beautiful.”

“You usually do two layers of nail polish,” Nile explains as she put the brush back in the bottle and shake it inside. “And then there’s a special transparent nail polish that helps keep it sealed, like a varnish for wood furniture but I don’t have that on me so we’ll do without it.”

Nile is silent after that, and Quỳnh pays attention to the way she does it, how she changes the width and length of her strokes for the smaller nail of her pinkie finger, and how she quickly puts the brush back in the bottle to get more paint for her thumb, the biggest of five nails.

“Do people paint the nails of their foot?” She asks as Nile finishes her hand.

“They do yeah. It lasts a lot longer than the hand’s nails because you wear socks and shoes and don’t use your feet for literally everything. And people also tend to go a bit crazier with their foot, add glitters and things like that since almost no one sees your feet. I know a friend, when she started questioning if she were trans or not she wore nail polish on her feet, to see if she liked or not. She came out the next year. I remember because she said it’s the bottle of blue polish I landed her that helped her start question and exploring it.”

It’s one of the first things she asked about, how union between women was seen in this century. Nile sat with her an entire afternoon to walk her through the new terms and progress in society in the last century. Joe was the one to tell her about the earliest century. So many times, the new words and concept just made her think ‘ _oh, there’s a word for it now_ ’. It’s one of the things she’s the most happy for, the way the love she and Andy have, or the one between Yusuf and Nicolò, is seen now.

“You want me to do your right or you want to try yourself?” Nile offers, and Quỳnh has never backed down from a challenge. And Nile isn’t challenging her as much as she’s putting pressure on herself to learn how to be in this century, how to cope with this new life she wants to fit in, as much as her immortal family ever wants to fit in.

“I think I’ll try.” Nile is right by her side, giving her advice, telling her when to get more paint or take some off the nail. She’s not alone in her trials, and after the hesitant first nail and the way the paint gathered too much at the bottom and made an irregular bump, she does much better with the next one, and the next. Even her thumbnail she manages to get pretty smooth.

“I’m so jealous. First try and you’re better than me.” Nile says with a pretend frown but her eyes are shining with her smile.

“Don’t be ridiculous, this looks like a child’s work.” And it is, there’s paint all over the skin and it’s not as smooth as her left hand, but the simple fact that it is from her own hand, that she chose to do this herself makes it the most beautiful thing she saw all week.

“Child’s work doesn’t mean ugly,” Nile says with a smile and takes the bottle of blue paint back to finish her own hands.

“Second layer?”

“Yep.” She pops the ‘p’ and looks down at her hands. “I think you can do yours in ten minutes, this one takes longer to dry.” She nods at the bottle of red nail polish.

They talk pleasantly as she watches Nile paint her nail. They talk about the good weather, how her training is going, the trip she and Andy are planning to take to go see Vietnam’s lands again. What they’re going to cook tonight. Nile wants fish, and Quỳnh says they can go to the seashore market to get fresh ones. Says she’ll get some shellfishes too to cook, it’s been too long since she ate from the sea, she misses it.

She hears Nico comes in, followed by Yusuf if the way he laughs is anything to go by. But she recognizes the gaze that falls on her neck the second the door opens and closes. Andromache is settling in the living room, and there’s the unmistakable sound of a whetstone against iron but her eyes are on her, she feels it like on feels the sun on their skin.

She finishes the last stroke of the second layer and closes the bottle of paint, turns her head to watch Andromache sitting in a chair and with a smile stretched on her face. There’s still that sadness, guilt in her eyes whenever she’s looking at her but right now? There’s also hope in her gaze, and it’s quickly overpowering the pain in her deep blue eyes. They are getting better, slowly healing, piecing their heart back together. It’s easy, when the other half of your soul is the one holding the piece you’re trying to sew back together.

“Still think red’s my color?” She asks, showing off her glossy nails and Andy laughs.

“I think any color’s yours, my love. But red brings out your eyes particularly well. It suits you.”

“Gross,” Nile says with a soft grin, and her hand is gentle where it’s squeezing her shoulder with care and affection. “You like it?”

“I do. I love it. Thank you, Nile.” She bends on her side and presses a kiss over her forehead, just at her hairline. Nile wraps her in a hug and Quỳnh lays her hands over her shoulder blades, relishes in the way they move with her breathing. She’s with her family, and everything’s good.

It’s not easy every day, they are still struggling, she keeps encountering obstacles she had no idea could exist but sometimes, things feel incredibly simple. Like now, painting her nails and talking about dinner with Nile, the little sister she had been waiting for so long, with her love across from her, her gaze protecting her from any hurt. She can live again, and she’s forever grateful for that.

**Author's Note:**

> We need more soft family bonding with Quỳnh, Andy and Nile, there’s so much potential with them.
> 
> I'm on tumblr [@salzundhonig](https://salzundhonig.tumblr.com/), rebloging and making content about the immortal wives and also slightly losing my mind over them.
> 
> I’m thinking of turning this into a series of short fic where Quỳnh and Nile hang out, bond, adjust to life out of the iron maiden/as an immortal together. If you have an idea or a prompt you want to send me, feel free to reach out to me on tumblr. I have anon on and my DMs are always open.


End file.
